


Scars and All

by bethesdad



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: :0, Comfort, M/M, trans!Rhys AU, uh yeah that's it im just a sap for trans rhys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethesdad/pseuds/bethesdad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An experimental snippet from what could become a short story. -- Jack and Rhys haven't been together long, there are a lot of things they don't yet know about each other. Rhys hides his scars just as well as Jack does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars and All

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. So. This is sort of a piece of a scene which is more or less an experiment. I would really appreciate feedback on this one on whether or not I should expand on it and/or continue writing it.
> 
> Trans!Rhys AU. In which Rhys is born a Siren, explaining his blue markings. The story doesn't yet include Jack dealing with Rhys's Siren identity; that's something I wanted input on before I put it in the story.
> 
> Anyway! This whole little thing is basically all fluff and romance, so enjoy!

Jack’s hands were warm at their palms and cool at the pads of his fingertips, leaving a wonderful, tingling sensation spreading across Rhys’s skin as Jack slid his hand up his shirt. Jack felt his fingertips catch on some odd texture up toward Rhys’s chest, but he chose to ignore it in the romantic haze he was caught up in. Besides, he assumed it was nothing. Maybe just somewhere where his bones were closer to the surface. Maybe dry skin. Why would he give a rat’s ass right now, anyway?

Jack parted his lips from the cyborg’s momentarily, “lift your arms,” he rumbled quietly. Rhys obeyed, and Jack thusly slipped the shirt the rest of the way off, throwing it off to the floor. A grin traced over Jack’s lips, and his hands cooly slid back down to Rhys’s hips to rest there. A wistful sigh left Rhys’s mouth at that gentle touch, and his eyes remained softly lidded. Jack’s eyes, however, opened up to look his partner up and down in admiration, take in every inch of that pale skin, starting at his narrow and round hips, up to his soft belly, his waist, his chest.. his scars… hi- _Wait a minute._

The smile on his face suddenly faded and his brows furrowed, eyes intently focused on the long scars on Rhys’s chest, just underneath each pectoral. They were clean and in nice, refined lines. Surgical. Rhys was taken by surprise by Jack suddenly tensing up and that his hands suddenly gripped his hip tighter. He opened his eyes only to have his breath get caught in his throat. How— how the hell did he forget— 

“What are.. what are these?” Jack murmured, running the pad of his thumb along the stretch of one of the two identical scars. Rhys felt like he couldn’t even speak the first few seconds. What the hell would he say? Better yet what _could_ he say? Jack’s eyes looked up at Rhys’s face as his thumb reached the ending of the scar it traced. “Rhys?” He asked, impatient for a response. He watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob as his words still remained lodged in his throat. 

“They… I…” Rhys struggled to get even a single word out. Jack quickly noticed his hands, which were still wound up in his hair, had began to tighten into fists. “L-look, Jack… It’s not…” 

“Shut up.” Jack’s voice sent a tremor down his spine. His throat tightened up and he swore something in his eyes wanted to make him well up tears. Fuck. He was mad. He had to be mad. Why wouldn’t he be mad? There was no way he didn’t put two and two together and… Rhys jolted as Jack’s hand was suddenly at his chin, gently grabbing and redirecting him to get Rhys to look him dead-on in the face. He opened his eyes to see the blue and green pair in front of him low, dark, and yet still surprisingly rich in color. He hesitated, felt his stomach turn. Jack’s expression was unreadable. Completely stone-cold.

Within another second’s notice, Jack let go of Rhys’s chin and brought both of his hands to his own face. Now, Rhys just watched quietly, too afraid and tense to do or say anything. But… Slowly, the tense, sickening feeling started to go away with the sound of… _clicking._ Clicking from the clamps on Jack’s mask being released. The two snaps on either side of his forehead made such noises, and the one below his chin detached with an almost inaudible metallic sound. The two men were quiet enough for Rhys to’ve heard it.

Rhys felt like his heart had fallen out of his chest when Jack pressed a whole hand to his face, grabbing around the mask. He felt like his heart was not only back but too big to fit in such a small cavity when he pulled it away. Rhys sat completely still and awestruck in Jack’s lap as he reached his hand over to a nearby nightstand to _set the mask down._ Away from him. Off. Rhys slowly brought a hand around Jack’s cheek, caressing lovingly. He let his thumb run over the texture of the oddly discolored, damaged skin, gently feeling over the blue-tinted scar tissue. 

Jack’s eyes were directed downward, not up at Rhys. He couldn’t find the courage nor overcome the shame that came with not wearing a mask over his scarred face. Rhys then mimicked the motion Jack had just done to him, gently gripping his chin and lifting his face as to get them to lock eyes. Rhys offered a warm smile, Jack hesitated… but gave it back. 

It set a new, incredible feeling off in Rhys’s chest not only to see a sincere smile from Handsome Jack, but one from his real, uncovered face. 

“I think I like you better like this,” he murmured quietly. Jack huffed a gentle chuckle. 

“Yeah, don’t get used to it, cupcake,” he sighed. He paused and drew both of his broad arms around Rhys’s waist, hauling his smaller frame up against Jack’s chest. “Just thought you should know your scars ain’t shit compared to mine,” he mumbled playfully in an attempt to comfort Rhys, kissing along his neck a couple of times. “And…” He sighed, “You get scars cause they remind you of something. They tell a story about how you end up the way you are,” he said, “Mine tell a way more badass story, but.. I think I like yours better.” 


End file.
